We're running out of time, said Sandecker evenly.I expect a call from the new president at any moment, demanding to know what we're up to. He had a light-skinned narrow, gloomy face, with jutting jaw and barbed-wire eyebrows-the kind of face that mirrors nothing and rarely displays a change of expression. Ramon King indolently replied by holding up a pencil. He peered over the rims of his glasses as the admiral approached.ĭr. In a glass-enclosed room set away from the rest of the humming machines a man in a white lab coat studied a stack of computer printout sheets.
He walked up two flights of stairs to the computer section and passed through security. Then he rose from his chair and left the projection room.
Sandecker watched as Pitt's figure faded from the screen. The Doodlebug can't produce a paying sandbar, Admiral, only find one. For God's sake, cut the subterfuge and make its existence known. The doors of discovery it throws open stagger the mind. It penetrates deeper than we had any right to expect. Why continue this risky expedition? The Doodlebug is a qualified success. King laid aside the printout sheets and faced Sandecker.You're not only demanding the moon but the stars as well. What are you trying to prove? King persisted. I can't bail you out if you're caught trespassing on the wrong side of the street. Not to change the subject, but keep a sharp eye in your rearview mirror.
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